Rain and Music Boxes
by Majokai Yukiko
Summary: Chapter 7 What is the price for regret? Which is more painful? Memories or denial?
1. Prologue

Rain And Music Boxes | Prologue 

A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko

This is an amateur attempt and does not intend to infringe the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and their associates. 

Pairing: Crawford + Schuldich

A/N: I'm looking for someone. If you are him, you will know when you read this fic. Please, whether you exist or not, just come and look for me. 

It was raining again today. As far he was concerned, nothing good can ever happen on rainy days. That was his personal opinion. 

It was just water falling from the clouds, wasn't it? But still, Schuldich hated the rain. For some strange unknown mandate of fate, rainy days were just omens telling him that he was going to be the gods' target for practical jokes again. 

He looked quietly around his room. It was in the middle of the night. A quick glance at his clock confirmed that it was two past twelve midnight. Not a particularly early hour, but definitely not one when Schuldich had to be put into bed. He outgrew that long ago. 

His nights were never silent before he joined Estet. Dreams and nightmares of varying content invaded his thoughts over and over again. It was interesting, certainly, to enjoy a free movie marathon each night. But unfortunately, he would have given anything then to exchange for silence. 

His room practically shouted out his existence in everywhere. Unused condoms sat passively on his bedside table; his clothes thrown on the floor thoughtlessly, waiting for Nagi to pick them up and put them into the laundry when he sees the need to; a high powered Hi-Fi set stood proudly on the shelves, with a messy stack of rock CDs next to it, a layer of dust collecting on it not from the lack of usage, but from the lack of care. 

In conclusion, his room was permanently in a terrible mess. 

But that was just he, wasn't it? That was how he was meant to behave. Mastermind of Schwarz was meant to be a free spirit unrestrained regardless of Estet's relentless efforts to change that fact. If it was a 'meant to be', then he could not be bothered to change that. 

There was one thing in that room of his that stood out from the rest like a sore thumb. 

The intricate design on that cursed musical box reflected the moonlight off its glossy irregular surface. It was just a normal musical box, not anything special. Store-bought, easily gotten off the shelves of any gift shop in town. But surprisingly, it was the thing that Mastermind bought with his first paycheck from Estet. 

It was a reminder, something to remind the telepath of where he came from, what he had been through, how much blood he had spilled to crawl up to his current position, drenched in his sins, but still as beautiful as ever. 

Beautiful? He had no idea. But at least, that was what they all say about him. 

With his current place in Estet, he could have gotten anything he wanted. So long if he asked nicely enough. The rain should no longer bother him. Fate should have already lost its hold on him. 

But that man had to enter his life just like that. Stroll into it as if it was his birthright, as if it was nothing to be questioned about. That man had to appear like a forgotten nightmare and haunt him. Like that musical box and yet so unlike it at the same time, he was there to remind Schuldich that he was no more than the scum he was born to be. 

Nothing changed. Only that this time, this scum was better clothed, better fed. But still…just a scum, nothing more, nothing less. 

***

The light of the corridor outside came alive with a soft 'click' of the switch. Crawford was awake again. Insomnia? When had he even care in the first place? 

A shadow fell over his door; the light outside his room was momentarily blocked. Schuldich watched in fascination and irritation as the knob on his room door turned. 

Crawford had definitely picked the wrong night to talk to him about anything. 

Schuldich grabbed a pair of cotton pants off the floor and pulled in on, saving himself some dignity as the infallible leader of Schwarz walked into his room without a word. Like he had always done. Walked into his life, and turned in upside down, inside out.  

Like he always believed, nothing good ever comes out of a rainy night. Rain makes him think too much, and Schuldich for one, hates thinking. And that was what Crawford was all about. 

Thinking. 

The German looked up. The irritating stick-in-the-ass was holding a manila envelope in his hands. Great, simply great. Not another mission in the middle of the night. Schuldich groaned mentally. 

***

I only wanted a music box, the young boy argued mentally, pressing his face against the cold glass of the shop window as his fingers traced out the beautiful engraving on the smooth well lacquered surface. . 

He only wanted a music box. But he had paid for it with his soul. 

End of Prologue. 


	2. Chapter 1

Rain and Music Boxes | Chapter 1

A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko

This is an amateur attempt and does not intend to infringe the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and their associates. 

Pairing: Crawford + Schuldich

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed this fic. I was close to giving up on it already (due to some stress in real life and all that), but it was the reviews that kept me going. So…guess you guys know what to do, right? [By the way, I cosplayed Schuldich at a convention last year and took some yaoi photos with dear Crawford…Brad says not to put them up publicly…but if somebody actually asks really nicely, I don't think I mind giving them out…*smirks*]

_You're mean, how can you forget me?_

_Who are you?_

_Who am I?_

***

It was a very simply mission, nothing that Schwarz could not handle. To be more exact, it was nothing that Schuldich, the supposed resident whore of the organization, could not settle. It was going to be time-consuming though. For this mission, Schwarz would have to operate without Mastermind for at least six months. 

Crawford was silent as he drove Schuldich to the airport. It was a wonder that the American actually took the time out to send his teammate off. But Schuldich was not at all impressed. It was probably Crawford's way of ensuring that Mastermind would not screw up a thing as simply as arriving for his flight on time. 

That was how much the Schwarz members trusted each other. 

"Brad—"

"That's 'Crawford' for you, Schuldich."

"If I need to irritate the hell out of you to make you say something, I will." Schuldich smirked, pleased with himself as Crawford pursed his lips together tightly. 

The car pulled to a half outside the glass doors of the airport. Crawford waited, while Schuldich only nonchalantly adjusted his bandanna with the help of the rear view mirror. Time slowly trickled past. Drivers behind them were yelling at them in anger. Car horns banged on violently, hoping that the mere noise would get the black Thunderbird in front of them to move. 

"Schuldich…" Crawford started, his patience running thin. It was so unlike him to attract the attention of the public through such stupid means. Anonymity was the key to survival in their trade. But then again, Schuldich had broken all rules there ever was. 

"Aww…no good bye kisses for good old Schuldich?" The German asked with mock innocence, sapphire eyes flashing with obvious amusement in them. "We are not going to see each other for half a year after all."

"At the rate you are going, it might be longer than that. Go get your bags, you have to check in soon."

"Why not you stay with me at the café a little longer? The plane doesn't take off until an hour later." Schuldich did not wait for a reply. Getting off the car, he quickly took his luggage out of the car boot and made his way into the air-conditioned hall. 

_Sweet dreams for these six months_, Schuldich whispered mentally into his leader's mind. _Don't miss me too much. _

Crawford sighed. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he removed the handbrake on the wheels and drove off towards the direction of the Diet building. 

Schwarz too had a mission to attend to. 

***

Diet Building

Tokyo, Japan

"I am here to meet Mister Takatori." The American said, offering a slight smile to the security guard at the door. "I am his new bodyguard. My name is Brad Crawford."

Taking out his guard, he set it on the counter calmly while the nervous guard quickly made a phone call to the minister. 

Crawford was distracted, and that was not good. It was less than acceptable for him to not be on his toes twenty-four hours a day. But this was the first time that a member of Schwarz embarks on a mission and the details were not made known to him. Schuldich only said it was a simply job for someone of the likes of him. But still, that was not enough for Crawford. Anything less than complete knowledge of what was going on put him at unease. And the American did not like that feeling at all. 

His gun was quickly given back to him after the guard confirmed his words with the politician. 

"Takatori-sama is on the 6th floor. Please allow one of us to accompany you up. It's the rules."

Ah, of course, rules were meant to be followed anyway. 

"Thank you."

***

A Takatori Villa

Berlin, Germany

"Good morning, Herr Hirofumi." Schuldich greeted the eldest son of the Takatori family cheerfully when the man walked into the living room of the villa. He had arrived in his hometown the night before, but the owner of the villa was asleep and unable to meet him. It was fine with him, Schuldich decided. Since it had given him amply time to explore the villa while getting used to the time lag. 

Raising his wine glass at the bespectacled man, Schuldich settled comfortably at the soft leather sofa and smirked. 

"I'm Schuldich, sent here by Estet, to…get you better acquainted with the workings of the organization." The telepath explained. It was taking him much effort to resist laughing at the other man's confused expression. Well, that could not help. It could not be everyday that you wake up to a stranger sitting in your living room, appreciating a glass of the best cognac in the estate. 

"As you know, your father just became the latest member of the big family, and of course, as part of the family, we try to help you in all aspects possible." _In other words,_ Schuldich muttered straight into Hirofumi's mind_. I'm your personal slave over here._

"And yes, I'm a telepath. Oh thanks for the cognac. Very good year, I must say." Getting reluctantly off the couch, Schuldich placed the wine glass onto the coffee table and smiled at his current employer. 

"I'll see you later. I didn't exactly sleep last night. Damn jet lags."

"Wait," Hirofumi spoke up for the first time since he stepped into the room. "Why do you call yourself 'guilty'?"

"Because 'innocent' is one word I never knew the definition for. Oh, but don't bother yourself with that, Herr Hirofumi. I never did."

***

"Innocence? What a joke!" Schuldich murmured to himself as he entered the guestroom. The old music box stared accusingly at him from the dresser. The German had no idea why he had brought it along with him in the first place. But somehow, he felt that he would not be able to survive these six months without its presence. 

Terrible, Schuldich could almost hear Crawford saying. To be so dependent on something is unbecoming of an assassin. 

"Oh, shut up." He swept his unruly flame hair away from his face and dropped himself onto the bed. Burying his face into the unfamiliar smell of fresh bed sheets, he groaned. 

Hirofumi seemed like a terribly boring man. Somewhat like Crawford even, with the spectacles, stick-up-the-ass attitude and well pressed suits. Even the Schwarz leader would make a better source of entertainment. 

Schuldich threw an arm onto the dresser table and flipped open the lid of the music box. An old German tune began playing. There was a story behind the melody. Something about a doll maker. He had told a friend about it before. But it was probably a mistake in his memories, some confused bits he had after tuning in to too many minds in his lifetime. 

Friend? He never had one. 

***

End of Chapter 1

Continue to Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 2

Rain and Music Boxes | Chapter 2

A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction By Majokai Yukiko

Pairing: Crawford + Schuldich

This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and its associates. 

A/N: This chapter is very badly written, by my own standards. My apologies to my readers for that. [Flu bug…^-^] Oh, have I ever mentioned that paper shredding is fun? I used to do that in my office [when I was working part time during my holidays] just to look busy. It is fun, very fun. Try drawing your employer's face on the paper and shred it…lovely…

--

"Do you want that?" The young boy turned around and quickly shaded his eyes from the sun. The man behind him was tall; his height was almost intimidating to the boy of nine. But the young boy could not see his features at all. Was it because the sun shadowed it? Or was it some other reasons?

The man knelt down on one knee before him. Placing a hand on the boy's shoulders, the stranger pressed something cold and hard into the boy's hands. 

"You know what to do with that, Schuldich. You are not that innocent."

"'Schuldich'? But that's not my name." The boy was confused. He looked at the object given to him, almost dropping it when he realized what it was. 

"Go ahead and do what is in your nature to, guilty one."

It was a gun. 

***

Schwarz Apartment

Tokyo, Japan

Crawford slammed his pen onto the wooden desk irritably. Pushing his chair away from the study table, he pulled his glasses off his face and massaged the bridge of his nose. He could almost feel the impending torture of a migraine creeping into his head. Body guarding is a lousy job, Crawford decided. But at least it pays. 

"Come in," he muttered when a tentative knock sounded on his room door. Nagi poked his head into the room and offered his leader a slight smile. 

"Knew it," the teenager muttered, a triumphant tone edging his voice. 

"Knew what? Ah, bless you for that." The American took the cup of coffee from the boy's hands with the eagerness of an addict. "Just what I needed right now." Loosening his tie, Crawford emptied the cup with one quick swipe, ignoring the burning sensation flowing down his throat. 

"Schuldich told me to make sure you get your daily caffeine fix."  Nagi calmly replied. Throwing a quick glance at the thick pile of documents on the desk, he wondered if it was a good idea to ask what they were. Crawford would not appreciate him digging through them at any time of the day, especially without permission was not granted. 

Crawford raised an eyebrow at the boy's words. Trust Schuldich to notice meager things like this, but bless him all the same. 

It was almost strange. The apartment was uncomfortably empty without the redhead's presence. No Schuldich to irritate him by sprawling across the couch in the living room, carelessly switching channels as and when he likes. No Schuldich to prod through his mind like an inquisitive weasel. And most of all, no Schuldich to walk into his office like it was his bedroom and cheekily put some of his important paperwork through the electronic paper shredder for fun. 

"Crawford?" The American blinked at the hand waving violently before his eyes. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Nagi, why not you take a walk around the neighborhood to familiarize yourself with it? I might not have time to drive you to school every morning."

***

Takatori Villa

Berlin, Germany

"And they really believe in it?" 

"Uh-huh, silly, isn't it? To think that it is possible to resurrect the dead." Schuldich popped another walnut into his mouth and grinned at the man sitting opposite him. 

It had been a month since he arrived at the villa. Throughout this time, Hirofumi was nothing if not polite to him, confirming his earlier suspicion about the lack of entertainment value in this mission. Thankfully, Schuldich finally managed to find a conversation topic that interests them both: gossips about the three Estet elders. 

"Tell me more about that. So what do they say? Abracadabra?"

"Nay, I have no idea, really." Schuldich replied. Hirofumi was so different from what he was used to back in Japan. For the first time since he joined Schwarz, he actually got to talk his fill and talk he would! 

"There was never a proper ceremony carried out yet. They couldn't seem to be able to find the sacrifice for it."

"Tell me," Hirofumi pushed his glasses up his nose and looked squarely into the German's sapphire eyes. His tone was serious. Finally, playtime was over. "Schuldich, what is the real reason for you to be here?"

Schuldich's expression remained unchanged. 

"And why," he sneered. Scrutinizing the other man's form with half lidded eyes, he smirked, his tongue darting out to taste the bits of walnut left on the edge of his lips. " Do you think I will tell you the truth?"

"I was hoping you would."

The younger man pushed himself off the couch and made his way back to his room. "You hoped wrong." 

"Wait," Hirofumi implored. For some reason, he was afraid that he had offended the other man. No matter how irritating or childish Schuldich was, he was still one of Estet's prized assassins, and it could not be without a reason. Offending him would be dangerous; any child would have realized that. "Do you believe in the devil? Do you believe in what your organization believe in?"

"There is only one man I believe in without question. And he is not God." Schuldich answered simply. Giving a backward glance at the Japanese, he grinned. "All my life I have not seen a vision that could save or damn my soul. Get what I mean?"

Hirofumi nodded.

***

A park

Tokyo, Japan

Nagi sat down alone on the park bench. The sun was warm on his skin. This was the city he had been brought up in, and it was the same city that he hated so much. It might have been a cradle for him, but as far as Nagi was concerned, it was a cradle of thorns. 

"Hey, watch out!" A voice yelled. Telekinetically moving the flying ball from its path, Nagi ducked a little, creating the illusion that the ball had missed him by a mere inch. 

"I'm sorry." A young man with dark brown hair came running towards him, a slight blush tinting his face. Scratching his head nervously, he smiled at Nagi. 

"Gomen, I was just playing soccer with some kids, and I kinda…missed. Sorry if it hit you."

"It didn't." Nagi replied coldly. Who was this man? He wondered. And why was he apologizing as if he had almost killed me? People never bothered if they hurt him. 

"Er…did you just move into this area?" The young man asked. "I never seen you around before." 

"I just moved in two days ago." 

"Oh, hey, since you are alone, want to play with us? I'm sure the kids won't mind having a new friend." The young man jogged to where the ball was and kicked it back in the direction of the field for the others to continue playing without him. 

Nagi shook his head. 

"My doctor says I should not do strenuous exercise." As if the stress on my mind was not already bad enough. 

"Oh…" The young man smiled sadly, a look of pity passing his face briefly. "I worked at the florist over there!" He pointed in a general direction. "Koneko no sume le. Look me up when you have time! Welcome to the neighborhood!" And he ran off to join the rest on the field. 

Nagi rolled his eyes and continued to enjoy the soft breeze in the park. Kitten in the House, he thought. Just the sort of name that Schuldich would say 'cute!!' to. 

End of Chapter 2

Continue to Chapter 3 


	4. Chapter 3

Rain and Music Boxes | Chapter 3  
  
A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko  
  
Pairing: Crawford + Schuldich This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and its associates.  
  
A/N: This is sinful, writing so many chapters, updating a fic so fast that it's crazy. Blame it on the school closure, and Ice for forgetting to pass me the installation disc for FFVIII. I need to find something to do before I join Farferello in his cell.  
  
--  
  
Takatori Villa  
  
Berlin, Germany 3 months later  
  
Schuldich fidgeted in the couch uncomfortably, listening to the monotonous dial tone of the green receiver pressed to his ear. He was no lover of Alexander Bell and his little inventions, the German had to confess. But homesickness was eating at him and his telepathic powers were not strong enough to communicate with anyone across the planet.  
  
"Nagi." Schuldich muttered to himself, irrationally hoping that the Japanese teen could hear him. "Pick up the phone."  
  
Strange how that while he never really liked the boy a lot when he was in Japan, something in him told him that the only thing between insanity and him was Naoe Nagi.  
  
"Hello?" A baritone answered the phone on the other side. Schuldich grinned. Perhaps, Nagi was not the only one holding that thread in his hands.  
  
"Howdy Brad! Miss me?"  
  
Over the telephone line, Schuldich thought he could hear the American groan. The German held his breath. Was it possible that he was not missed at all? Was it possible that Crawford had already sent a request up to the administrative to transfer Schuldich out of the team? Was it possible.  
  
"It's Crawford for you, Schuldich, as it is for everyone else."  
  
Schuldich swept his flame colored hair away from his face. Brad Crawford would always be Brad Crawford. You could not see him for a decade and he still would not have changed much.  
  
"Fine, shan't argue with you on that, if you really want to be known after some primly supermodel with a mole on her face. For a moment, I thought you were too busy to talk to me."  
  
"." There was a forced silence for a second, as if the American had something important to say but thought better against it. "What is your mission about, Schuldich?"  
  
"Do you really want to know?" The German retorted, a slight hint of exasperation in his tone. He had known Brad Crawford for five years already; from the time when they man was his chaperon in Rosenkreuz, to now where they were working together in the same team called Schwarz. And from what he had gathered of his partner, he lusted for control. No, not lust, more like he could survive solely on control alone. Not knowing what Schuldich's mission was about must have put him on his edge for days.  
  
Schuldich did not bother hiding his glee at that.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"If I don't tell you, what would you do to me?"  
  
"Warn you. Schuldich, Takatori Hirofumi may not be shrewd like those you have dealt with when you lived on the streets, but he is not simpleton either."  
  
Once the words were out of his mouth, Crawford regretted ever saying them. Schuldich tightened his grip on the green plastic; the phone receiver creaked ominously, as if it was about to break into pieces any moment.  
  
It probably was.  
  
He should know better, Schuldich scowled and slammed the phone back onto its handle. He should know about my past and its taboos. He should.  
  
Just that he doesn't care.  
  
*** Schwarz Apartment Tokyo, Japan  
  
Crawford calmly replaced the phone; worry darkening his clean cut handsome looks as he thought about Schuldich's sudden outburst. He knew the other man would be angry with him for bringing up his past; Crawford had more than enough experience dealing with that. But he would usually wait for Crawford to finish what he had to say before flaring up at him.  
  
"I'm worried, Schuldich." The American said, staring at the marked square on his tabletop calendar. Schuldich could not hear him from here, but he was still going to say it anyway.  
  
"Hirofumi might not be as vicious as those rats you used to deal with, but the rich always has more idle time to drift into their private madness. Just be careful."  
  
"Talking to yourself?" Nagi walked into the study and made his way to the shelves, where his laptop was placed. "They say that is the first sign of madness."  
  
"Maybe I am on my way there," Crawford cast another look at the calendar and switched on his computer. Irritating as the redhead was, he was still a friend. Somebody he valued both as a teammate and a travel mate in this journey to hell and continued damnation.  
  
He was going to apologize.  
  
*** Takatori Villa Berlin, Germany  
  
After a few hours, Schuldich was still staring at the much-abused telephone with fury in his eyes. He was losing his control on his emotions, he realized. It had never happened to him before. He had let the mental shields that drowned out the constant babbling of thoughts of those around him down before, not willingly of course. He had problems figuring out what his thoughts were and what the other ramblings were too. But emotions? Never. Like Crawford, he would have made a perfect poker player.  
  
"Are you done with trying to crack the plastic of my phone?" Schuldich dragged himself off the overly soft cushions of the sofa and turned around, meeting the man behind him with an almost bored look on his face.  
  
"No. I'm trying to give you an excuse to get a new phone."  
  
Hirofumi rolled his eyes and looked as if he was about to faint. Taking in a deep breath, he shoved a piece of paper at the German and took a seat on the sofa beside the man. Schuldich raised an eyebrow and glanced at the message on the fax paper.  
  
Amusing, he thought.  
  
"Happy birthday, Mastermind. I bought something for you; get it from me when you come back. And.I realize that just now was my fault, and so I'm just going to mention this once. Don't expect me to repeat this again: I'm sorry. Signed, Crawford." The message read.  
  
I never thought you'd remember, Brad.  
  
Hirofumi clasped his hand firmly around Schuldich's wrist and pulled him down onto the couch gently.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me it's your birthday today?" The Japanese man asked, encircling his arms around the thin waist.  
  
Schuldich closed his eyes briefly, fighting down the nausea of having a man's arms around him. It was his job, he argued mentally. Have I not bear with it for so many years already?  
  
There was a reason why he had not told Crawford the agenda of his mission. This was one part of his job that even his leader did not know about. When he was training in Rosenkreuz, his instructor had told him that one important part of being a telepath was seduction. He was blessed with physical features that both men and women would die for, but that was not enough. Telepathy, like all clairvoyance skills, were not as dependable as others thought they were. When all else fails, he had to make use of his other 'talents' to complete a mission, if he did not want to go crazy from overuse of his mental powers.  
  
Every team in Estet had a telepath, and that telepath was always the house whore. Such was the price one had to pay for sanity and survival.  
  
"I didn't think you'd care to know." He replied simply, willing his body to react to Hirofumi's clumsy administration. It would soon be over, he told himself. Once he had this naïve college graduate thinking the way Estet wanted him to, he could get the hell out of here and back to Japan.  
  
Back to the sanctity of the Schwarz apartment where all these did not exist.  
  
*** 4 years ago Rosenkreuz HQ Texas, USA  
  
"Do you understand our reasons for doing this?" The man asked. The room was dark, endless darkness except for the bright white light of the table lamp. The young boy could feel his lower lip quivering in fear. What had he done to deserve this?  
  
The man pushed a wooden box across the table to the boy. Smiling gently, he cupped his hands around the boy's smaller ones and stroked the thin fingers comfortingly.  
  
"The music is innocent, Schuldich. But we are not. God had given you this special ability to listen to the hearts of others, but that is a heavy cross to bear."  
  
"My name is not Schuldich." The young boy protested. Digging his mind for a name to call himself, he frowned. He could not remember any.  
  
"Yes, it is. It is the name He had given all of us. Guilty, aren't we all? I'm sorry you have to do this, Schuldich. But it is the only way to complete the task God had given us without collapsing under that cross."  
  
But why me? The young boy screamed mentally. It's not fair!  
  
Resignedly, Schuldich lowered his head in the semblance of a nod.  
  
"You can choose when to use which one of your skills unless special orders were given. But when the migraine gets too bad, you know what to do."  
  
Another nod.  
  
"You will be assigned a team after you completed your training. But your teammates cannot know about your backup.means of getting a job done."  
  
"Why not? Aren't we supposed to trust one another?"  
  
"Yes, but who will trust a whore? Nobody is going to care anymore, once you are damaged goods. Nobody but me. I'm your only friend. Understand?"  
  
*** Present day 2 months after Schuldich's birthday Takatori Villa Berlin, Germany  
  
One emerald eye peeked under the covers at the rising sun. A foreign hand was slung over his waist, somewhat possessively. Schuldich smirked and not so gently pushed said arm off him and crawled out of bed.  
  
Nobody owns the Mastermind. He sneered.  
  
Today would be the day he had his bags packed and moving. And Hirofumi would be returning to Japan with him to aid his father, Takatori Reiji, in his political pursuits. After months of soft persuasion through sexual means, Hirofumi was finally convinced that a better Japan would be created, if only his father could attain the power to.  
  
He had no idea why Estet had specifically ordered for him not to brainwash the Japanese telepathically. It was probably because his mental control would fade in time and time was what the politician needed most to attain presidency. He had to truly convince the man, not create some mindless puppet out of him.  
  
Schuldich picked up the clothes from the floor randomly, not caring whose clothes he would be walking out of the room in. It did not matter anyway, since he was about to take a nice long shower and return to Japan, conveniently pushing the memory of rubbery lips against his bare skin out of his mind.  
  
There was no need to tell others about this. The German thought about how the Schwarz leader would be like a hellhound on his heels, demanding to know the details now that the mission was over. But Schuldich would not tell.  
  
It would not make a difference if he did anyway. Who would care for damaged goods?  
  
He cast one last look at the sleeping man, knowing that it would be the last time he would have to warm his bed. Chuckling to himself, Schuldich almost skipped out of the room. Yes, returning to Japan would be good for his mood. --  
  
End of Chapter 3 Continue to Chapter 4 


	5. Chapter 4

Rain and Music Boxes | Chapter 4 A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko  
  
Pairings: Crawford + Schuldich  
  
This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and its associates.  
  
A/N: Have I ever mentioned that I pose up teasers of my fics on my blog site? Well, I do. But since Fanfiction.net does not allow me to post up URL, you guys will have to check out the link yourself on my bio page, that is, if you are interested.  
  
I've already finished writing the next chapter of this one. Review and I'll post it up. (The more you review the faster I write. ^^)  
  
-- Blood. It kept flowing. Staining the ground in crimson glory There was no way to stop it No way at all.  
  
Just let it flow. Let it go. Sin. They kept accumulating Listen! Can't you hear the sorrowful cries Of the dead when the wind blows? They were asking you, demanding A reason of their death And you have no answer  
  
"Mad Season", black.heaven  
  
Tokyo, Japan  
  
Schuldich had not expected much upon his return. There was no need for red carpets and fresh flowers strewn at his feet. His return to Japan was not a victory parade. But a small gesture like picking him up personally from the airport would be nice.  
  
Crawford was not there.  
  
The black limousine sent by Takatori Reiji took both him and Hirofumi to the Diet Building. It would be nice to see Nagi at the front door awaiting his return.  
  
But the kid was not there either.  
  
There was nothing for him in Japan except for a certain irritating geek next to him, trying to hold his hand for the nth time since the plane landed.  
  
"Don't touch me," Schuldich nearly yelled in anger. Turning his back on the Japanese, he made his way towards the elevator. His head was spinning with brilliant colors. The mental shields around his mind were down and the sheer magnitude of thoughts forcing their way into his brain at the same time was almost too much to bear.  
  
Crawford...Brad...Schuldich mentally called out to the American. Even if he had not liked him a wee bit, Crawford would help him. He was a member of Schwarz after all. He had to.  
  
The German collapsed against the cold marble walls. Beads of cold sweat were running down his forehead and Hirofumi's constant bantering had not helped to calm his nerves at all.  
  
"What's the matter with you, Schuldich? Do you only love me in Berlin and not in Tokyo?" Hirofumi demanded.  
  
Brad...the silence...I need the silences...and get this prate away from me.  
  
Aloud, Schuldich could only smirk at the other man's naivety.  
  
"Love? Who are you to demand that from me? The eldest son of a pathetic minister is nothing in my eyes. Come back when your dad's the prez, kid."  
  
The Japanese man looked as if he was about to say something until the clicking of boots against tiles interrupted him. Hirofumi looked up and met the hazel eyes of an American briefly, before the man in the white suit shifted his attention to the pale-faced German.  
  
"Schuldich!" Crawford quickly took the young man into his arms and held on tight, oblivious to the strange looks they were getting around the lobby.  
  
This was why Schuldich enjoyed being around clairvoyants so much, regardless of how insane or dangerous they were. Clairvoyants had an imaginary power field around them. Any normal within this field would be particularly susceptible to the clairvoyant's manipulation. Similarly, the closer a normal was in a telepath's power field, the louder his thoughts were projected. A vacuum could only be formed when power fields intercept. So long as Schuldich keep his power field intercepted with another's, his mind could know the true bliss of silence.  
  
"Thank you," Schuldich whispered, chokingly allowing Crawford to help him into the elevator to the 7th floor where his office was located.  
  
Hirofumi could only watch the two men leave in silence. In that sudden moment, he felt that he had been so terribly, totally mistaken all these while. Helping his father attained presidency would not only be beneficial to the national well being of Japan, it could also bring him what he desires.  
  
By hook or by crook, Takatori Reiji would be the next president. He would see to that personally.  
  
*** Crawford's Office Diet Building Tokyo, Japan  
  
Estet would be pleased. That was Schuldich's only response when he caught Hirofumi's train of thought. He allowed himself to be led into the room quietly; not that he had much choice in the first place. His head was still throbbing in pain and with his current weakened state; he did not feel up to it to rebuild those Godforsaken mental shields.  
  
"What happened out there?" Crawford asked. The voice, although soft in volume, was spoken forcefully. The leader of Schwarz knew that his teammate could not handle him raising his voice now. But keeping that anger and worry contained was taking more than just patience and skill. It had been years since the telepath's protective shields were breached, and that was before Schuldich was a fully trained telepath. Berlin was a madhouse then, with the fall of the Berlin Wall. The onslaught of thoughts was too much for any telepath to take. But now, with his current strength and experience, there was not reason for the shields to collapse again. The unknown was disturbing, and it was driving Crawford to the brink of insanity.  
  
"You should know. The shields fell."  
  
"I know they did. I want to know why they did and how." To be sure that Schuldich would provide him an answer, Crawford added with thinly laced threat. "Don't make me shout at you, Schuldich."  
  
The German winced.  
  
"I don't know," he admitted truthfully. Meeting Crawford's doubtful gaze, he hastily smiled and promised to report the matter to the top. Perhaps the Magi would have some answers for them.  
  
"You said you have a gift for me." The American sighed in exasperation. They were discussing something important and serious but his belated birthday present was all the telepath was interested about? !  
  
"Redheads..." he muttered under his breath, walking up to retrieve something from his desk drawer. "Haven't met one that isn't loud and stupid."  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"Something insulting," Crawford replied dryly. "Catch."  
  
Schuldich gave a confused blink when a longish black box landed in his lap. Picking it up, he examined it for a moment before checking its contents.  
  
"Wow! Brad! How did you know I've been wanting this pair of sunglasses for a very long time?" The smile on Schuldich's face was priceless. And for a moment, Crawford thought he would have given anything to see such a smile on an assassin's face. It was the smile of contentment and true joy.  
  
It had been a long time since he saw Schuldich smile like this. Hazel eyes widened in shock when he caught that thought. Had he ever seen the German smile at this in the first place? It was a familiar feeling. So strangely familiar that it triggered a painful clenching in his heart.  
  
As if...  
  
As if he had lost something important.  
  
"Brad?"  
  
Crawford snapped out of his reverie to meet the concerned look on Schuldich's face.  
  
"Are you alright?" The telepath asked. The American looked into his own reflection in the red tinted lens of the sunglasses and shook his head.  
  
Schuldich knew better than to ask. Interesting and amusing, as it was to see Crawford divert his gaze and think up of some pretty lie to tell him, Schuldich did not think he was in the mood for that sort of fun right now. All he wanted was a long good sleep and nothing else.  
  
It had not occurred to the telepath that he was sleeping more than usual.  
  
"My luggage! I left them in that geek's car!" Schuldich suddenly exclaimed. Damn it! All his belongings were in there. His music box!  
  
The German would have gotten up and ran all the way down if he could. But once he got onto his feet, those undependable muscles gave way again, letting him collapse back onto the couch and into darkness.  
  
"Schuldich! Schuldich!"  
  
How strange.why was Brad calling him 'guilty'?  
  
*** Magic Bus Hospital Tokyo, Japan  
  
Somebody was shaking him violently; making his head hurt more than it already was. Was he in a hospital? Chris wondered, the bright white lights above pierced through his closed eyelids, forming a crimson silhouette against nothing.  
  
His mother must have gone too far in her beatings to land him in hospital. But who would have sent him here? They could not possibly afford the hospital bills.  
  
"Sorry, mami. I'd get up now." Chris muttered, not realizing until a moment later that his voice was much lower than he remembered. "Fich."  
  
"Mami? Wake up, Schuldich." Chris's thoughts came to a sudden halt. Stop thinking, yes. Peace at last, peace is good. He cracked apart his eyelids with much difficulty, quickly throwing an arm across his eyes to block out the bright ceiling lights. Was that how hospitals wake their patients? With supersonic lights to make sure they had no choice but to try their best to get up?  
  
The shaking stopped at once. Finally getting his eyes used to the surroundings, Chris looked around, wondering who was the man who had spoken just now.  
  
It was a tall stranger with jet-black hair. Dressed in an expensive white suit, he looked every bit like a successful businessman who could take on the world and win. But right now, those usually scheming amber-brown eyes were filled with worry and concern.  
  
A name came to Chris at once. He knew this stranger, but his memory of Brad Crawford was this American boy who was barely older than he was, not this formidable-looking adult.  
  
"Brad? Where am I, and why are you here?"  
  
Crawford narrowed his eyes. Schuldich never called him by his first name unless he was in the mood to irritate. Not that he was not in that mood very often, but the look on the German's face was innocent, almost confused even. No, Schuldich was definitely not in the mood to joke.  
  
"I'll run a few tests on him later," the doctor beside him informed before walking out of the room. Crawford nodded briefly, his eyes still hard on his bedridden teammate.  
  
"You fainted in my office. Schuldich, this is serious."  
  
"Woah, wait a minute! Why are you calling me 'guilty'?" Chris swept his hair away from his face, wondering for a moment why his fringe was not tickling his eyes like it usually did, and held out his hands before him. "I am not."  
  
Blue eyes widened in horror as Chris took in the sight of his hands. His fingernails were well manicured and cleaner than they had ever been, and his hands were much bigger than he remembered. These were not the hands of a thirteen year old. No way! They were the hands of an adult!  
  
He flipped his palms up to face him, feeling the calluses on his fingertips in shock and horror. He never had calluses like these before, not even after years of cleaning that pathetic little hut with Lysol. These were calluses formed after years of handling a weapon.  
  
Then Chris did the only thing that seemed reasonable to him then.  
  
He screamed.  
  
"Schuldich! Damn it!" Crawford grabbed the German by his shoulders and pinned the lithe body against the headboard of the bed. "Stop it!"  
  
A stinging pain on his hand told the American that he had slapped his teammate. But he did not have the time to regret his action. For some reason, that act had calmed the other man somewhat. Schuldich looked up shakily at Crawford, his aquamarine eyes glazed with pain and something else. Hurt?  
  
"What.what year is it?"  
  
"Nineteen ninety-three." Crawford replied, puzzled over the question.  
  
Chris gasped. He had lost four years of his life. So.did that mean he was seventeen now? Mami? Where was his mother? What about his school? What about Kiel? There were so many questions on his mind. So many questions left unanswered. And that man holding him.was he really Brad Crawford? If he were, then that would explain why he looked so different. Brad would be twenty-three now. But Brad would not slap him. Would he?  
  
"What do you remember?" Crawford asked, suspecting from the skittish way the telepath was behaving that it was memory loss. He had read about that in the Estet library before. Telepaths, especially those who overused their powers, could easily suffer from backlash. The results were usually memory loss, and for more serious cases, insanity.  
  
"Look Brad, I know this sound dumb, but I am not this person here. I am Christopher Nicolae Heinrich, born in Kiel and I'm thirteen! Thirteen!" Chris paused, his lower lip quivering in hurt as he noted the look of disbelief and amusement on Brad' s face. This was not Brad Crawford.the American would never mock him this way.  
  
For the first time in his life, Chris hoped the painful contact of his mother's cane. At least that was familiar.  
  
+End of Chapter 4+ +Continue to A Brief Respite+ 


	6. A Brief Respite

Rain and Music Boxes | A Brief Respite  
  
A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko  
  
Pairing: Crawford + Schuldich This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and its associates.  
  
A/N: For those who find the contents of this chapter familiar, it was from another fic of mine titled 'Pandora's Gift'. What happened was that somehow I lost all my writing notes for that chapter and I had no idea why I wrote what I wrote. So right now I'm tying the two stories together into one. Hope you don't mind.  
  
---  
  
Flash Message  
  
SZ-F.Agent eyes only  
  
Subject: Operation Schwarz Message: Activate End of Message -- Log off--  
  
18 September 1989, Friday 1443 hours Kiel, Germany  
  
Frau Anna Heinrich stared at the young boy at the corner. The thinly clad figure shivered at a corner of the room, his long orange bangs fell down his forehead, covering part of his eyes. Emerald orbs overflowing with fear and sorrow as the boy pulled his legs closer to himself.  
  
The house was in a pathetic state. The walls were yellowish with age; its paint was peeling off it. The cabin was made of old wood full of knotholes, which served to let in the cold or heat, or to let out their cold or heat- whichever way that would make them more miserable. The tin roof that had turned rusty almost a decade ago had a big hole in it, allowing the wooden floor to speed up its decaying process after the rainy days. The old stove stayed at a corner, choking out thick gray smoke in a desperate attempt to keep the house warm.  
  
In the cabin where only two people were in, Chris Heinrich could hear his mother's thoughts clearly, as clear and as loud as it was like she had spoken it out loud herself.  
  
Devil's spawn! Her mind screamed. 'Y do ya hafta be born'?  
  
The young boy threw his hands over his ears, trying to block out the thoughts. But it had not helped at all. The curses, her curses.they were still there.  
  
"'Y do ya hafta be born'? 'Y do ya hafta look so much lyk ya Papa?" Anna Heinrich yanked roughly at the orange hair to get the young boy up onto his feet. She looked sadly into those dark green eyes for a moment, finding her own eyes in them.  
  
She could not understand what she had done wrong other than to find her way to the master's arms. He was rich, charming and had made so many promises to her. She was only a poor peasant woman. Was she wrong to have believed in those empty vows of love? Was she wrong to succumb to the master's seduction? She was only fifteen then, for God's sake. The Lord had been kind enough to bless her with the master's son. She believed that the master still had feelings for her, and that he would take in both mother and child. But life was never fair, if she had not realized it before, she had realized it now. Not only had the master threw them out, not only had her baby grew up to look like his father; Chris Heinrich was a devil! He was a freak that could communicate without moving his lips and a monster that could read her thoughts.  
  
Demon!  
  
Chris forced back the tears that threaten to fall. "Sorry, moth-" Pa! He was thrown back onto the floor again.  
  
"Don't haf ya talking lyk yar father, lyk yar all might' an' rich! Poor folks lyk us talk lyk mi, ya hear?!" With that, Anna Heinrich started for the door.  
  
"Where are you going, mami?"  
  
"Out!" This time, she had not bothered to correct him.  
  
Chris looked at the thin blanket on the big brass bed quietly. Slowly, he wrapped the tattered piece of cloth around himself and willed himself to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, things would change for the better. Maybe his mother could learn to love him. Maybe.maybe.  
  
He kept praying.  
  
***  
  
21 September 1989, Monday 1740 hours Kiel, Germany  
  
Jade eyes flashed in pure anger and hatred as Chris wiped the mud off his face.  
  
"My mami says that Anna Heinrich is a whore! Bastard child! Bastard child!" The boys laughed. Despite the rain, Chris could hear them loud and clear, as well as those who had just walked past.  
  
Was that the Heinrich boy the kids are beating up? Who's his father anyway?  
  
The oldest boy of the group picked him up by the collar, examining his face before putting on a smug grin on his face.  
  
"But a beautiful one nevertheless." With that, he pressed his lips roughly onto Chris's lips, bruising the pale pink flesh.  
  
Let go of me, you disgusting jerk. Chris cursed mentally, only to be dropped back onto the muddy ground.  
  
"What's wrong, Jed?" Someone from the group asked, but he was answered with the petrified look on Jed's face.  
  
"I.heard him." Chris felt his boy tensed up while he forcefully formed a smirk on his lips. No, please don't let it be.  
  
Devil's spawn!  
  
Child of Satan!  
  
Freak!  
  
Monster!  
  
"SHUT UP!!!" The young boy scrambled up onto his feet and ran into the darkness.  
  
***  
  
Flash Message  
  
SZ-R.Dept Eyes only Subject: Operation Schwarz Message: Mastermind spotted End of Message -- Log off--  
  
21 September 1989, Monday 1816 hours Kiel, Germany  
  
It was not after at least half an hour before he found the young German boy sitting all by himself on an old swing in a forgotten playground. Chris looked up when he approached.  
  
"Hi, am I disturbing you?" The stranger asked, taking a seat on the swing next to Chris.  
  
"Would it do any good if I say yes?" The redhead answered without looking at the stranger. "Who are you?"  
  
The stranger swept his dark bangs from his forehead and smiled good- naturedly.  
  
"You are a mind-reader, can't you just tell?" Chris snapped his head around sharply, eyes spilling with hatred before it dissolved into a look of vulnerability.  
  
"I can't read your thoughts like I could with others, not that I want to anyway." Chris turned back and closed his eyes in resignation. "But you are American, aren't you? Could tell that from your accent."  
  
"Yeah, I'm on holiday with my parents and just wandered off on my own."  
  
"You're lying."  
  
The American child sat there, stunned for a moment before smiling again. "Yeah. I am."  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Me? Brad Crawford."  
  
"Chris Heinrich." Brad stood up suddenly, walked towards the other boy and gave him a kiss on the lips. It was a clumsy boyish kiss, but unexpectedly, there was a sense of security that came with it, unlike the forced one he had received just less than an hour ago.  
  
"I've gotta find my parents. See ya around!" Brad gave a lop-sided grin and ran away, leaving behind the other boy who was now tracing the strange warmth on his lips. For the first time in his life, Chris Heinrich gave a real smile.  
  
For the first time in his life, he felt loved.  
  
+End of A Brief Respite+ +Continue to Chapter 5+ 


	7. Chapter 5

**Rain and Music Boxes | Chapter 5**

**A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko**

**Pairing: Brad Crawford + Schuldich**

**This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and its associates. **

A/N: Sorry for moving too fast in this chapter, I just thought I had to get on with things. There's only so long you can mope over amnesia, you know. ^0^ Oh, and if this chapter sounds rather strange in anyway, I apologize too. Have been too into X Men slash these days that I forget in WK fandom, telepaths are not mutants…

----

It was the first time I ever looked at Brad with anything less than rose-colored lenses. Whatever fantastical impressions I had for him dissolved the day I woke up in the hospital and realizing that I'm seventeen instead of thirteen. 

They all told me that I had simply lost my memories. And some things about myself told me exactly that too. For example, my hands were never that big and strong, I had never been able to control my telepathy, nor had I ever seen so many battle scars on myself, may it be bullet wounds, or what not. 

They told me many other things to. That I am an assassin working for this cult called Estet. That I am now on a mission as a bodyguard to some koala-look-alike called Takatori Reiji. But they told me nothing of what I want to hear about, nothing about my mother and what had happened to her, or anything about what was left of my lover, the mysterious young boy who had bought me expensive gifts when all others shunned me. 

I took another look at the man in the room through the small rectangular window at the door, and sighed. If this was how Brad Crawford had grown up to be like, I wished I had never known him before. 

----

"Good morning, Brad," Chris Heinrich greeted the Schwarz leader when he entered the room. Crawford looked up briefly at the German. 

"It's Crawford to you, Schuldich."  The American answered curtly, turning back to whatever that was on his laptop screen. 

Chris cringed, visibly, at the name he was called. Nobody he had talked to had any idea why he was called Schuldich. All they said was that it was what the telepath had introduced himself to be. As to what had happened in that four years that had caused him to name himself "guilty", he did not know. Neither did anyone else. 

Perhaps Brad would know something about it. But said man had pointedly stated that he had not knew him before Estet, and that Chris had mistook him for someone else. 

Chris did not believe him. If only he could get hold of the diaries he remembered keeping. Then maybe he would find the answers to all his questions. 

"Have anyone told you that you look like a high school prefect like this?" 

Crawford winced. 

"Nobody but you dares to get on my nerves, Mastermind." 

"Oh really?" Chris smiled, thinking that he had finally found a way to ruffle up his leader's overly well-groomed feathers. "And why is that so? Are you known to bite?"

"Don't mess with me, Schuldich." Crawford warned. 

Finally, it was the last straw. He had enough of people calling him "Schuldich this and Schuldich that", can't they see that he was not Schuldich? He was not the person they want him to be. When he was thirteen, people shunned him for being a freak that can read the minds of others, 'devil's spawn', that was what they called him. Now, even when he was supposedly seventeen, he was still doing whatever others expect him to do. He was a lap dog, nothing more, and nothing less. And lap dogs were just supposed to kiss your feet and fetch the papers, right?

"And what if I want to mess with you? You were the one who's messing with my life now. Who told you I want to be in Estet? Who told you I want to be in Schwarz? Who the fuck ever told you I want to be here?!" 

That was the most Crawford could take too. Throwing his chair back, he grabbed the lithe German by the shoulders and threw him, sprawled across the long meeting table. Sapphire eyes darkened into a shade of midnight as Schuldich glared back at him with unequalled amount of hatred, anger, hurt and desire? 

Pulling off his tie, Crawford straddled the other man and held him down with a firm and not so gentle grip over his mouth. 

"Shut up, Schuldich. I told you not to mess with me."

"Those words you just said could jolly well get you killed. And you are not doing anything that compromises the team."

The team. It was always about the team. It was always about Schwarz, wasn't it? Crawford had the slight inkling that it was not always so. There was a point of time where he did something for himself. But when could that be? He loosened his grip on the younger man. 

"When was it, Brad?" Schuldich asked. 

_"Brad?" The boy gathered his lover closer to himself. They were inside a church. Nobody could get them in here. God simply would not allow it. _

_"It's going to be all right, Chris. They won't get you. They won't get **us**." Brad buried his face into the spicy-sweet scent of his lover's hair. The cold metal of a gun in his hands brought no more comfort than the heavy rain outside. It was the rain again_

_Deep inside he knew the truth. The painful truth was that they were going to be captured and given a fate worse than death himself. Against people as powerful as the Magi, two teenage kids simply had no chance at victory. _

_The grand church doors opened and a dead body was thrown towards them with a cruel laugh. Chris made the mistake of looking up from his lover's embrace and screamed when he recognized the corpse. _

_It was Anna Heinrich. _

Crawford closed his eyes painfully. What was that onslaught of image about? He never saw the past in his visions before. He was one man who lived in the future. But those images he had just seen, they were not figments of imaginations. They were memories…long forgotten memories of despair, pain and love. 

"Brad?" Schuldich muttered. 

Déjà vu. 

Just like what he had done years ago, Crawford got off the young man and gathered him into his arms. The Geman stiffened slightly, and then gave in to the embrace, knowing nothing of the visions that had changed Crawford's entire demeanor. 

The American had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea what those memories were trying to tell him. He had no idea where in the timeline of his life he could place them. But he knew for certain that those were definitely memories. Only when, and how? The first time he met Schuldich was the arrogant bastard who swaggered down the hallway of Rosenkreuz as if he owned that place. 

"Brad?" Chris tried again. 

The only reply he was given was the tightening of arms around him, and the wet spot on his shoulders that Brad was causing with his tears. 

----

Nagi quickly got out of the room when he saw the two eldest members of Schwarz hanging onto each other on the meeting table as if anyone of them would drown if somebody let go. 

Calmly, he closed the door behind him and leant against its cool polished surface. 

Since none of them seemed rather interested in getting lunch, he would have to go out himself then. 

He had no idea what had gotten into him to think that it was a good idea to pay a visit to the park before lunch. True enough, he felt more at peace with nature than anywhere else, but it was no reason for him to be out in the sun. He had only himself to blame for that pounding pain in his head. 

Now he had a vague idea why Schuldich was an asshole whenever he got one of those telepathy-induced migraines. 

"Hey," A cold water bottle pressed itself against his forehead. The Japanese boy looked up and met the laughing hazel eyes of that klutz he met some time ago. "You okay?" 

The cool surface of the bottle was relaxing and doing some good, albeit not enough, to his headache. Nagi nodded weakly and moved away slightly. 

"Hey?" The telekinetic frowned and tried his best not to glare. Was this man so thick headed that he could not even tell he wanted to be left alone? 

"My name is Hidaka Ken." The soccer player wiped his sweaty hand against his jersey and held it out, as if asking for a handshake. Nagi looked at the said hand curiously before taking it. 

"Naoe Nagi."

+End of Chapter 5+

+Continue to Chapter 6+


	8. Chapter 6

**Rain and Music Boxes | Chapter 6**

**A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko**

**Pairing: Crawford x Schuldich**

**Warnings: Mind control and violence. **

**This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe upon the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and its associates. **

A/N: Sorry for putting this story on the backburner for so long. WK plot bunnies refused to work unless I threaten to make them into rabbit stew. Short chapter, I just can't bring myself to continue this chapter with Ken and Nagi. Next chapter will be about them though, they will be rather essential to the plot of this story.

---

_"Run! Chris, RUN!!" The American shouted, struggling against the strong grip the two hit men had on him. Chris stood transfixed in the headlights of that oncoming truck, not moving except for the slight quivering of his lower lip and the tears that were flowing freely down his cheeks._

_"RUN!!!" Brad shouted again. It was a starless night, and in a night such as this the lights of impending doom seemed even brighter and more blinding than ever. _

_"I can't…" Chris sobbed, desperately struggling against the telekinetic binds that held him still. _

_It was until his eyesight began to blur when Crawford realized that he too was crying. Hope was leaving. Was this the end of him, the end of them?_

_No, he refused to let it end this way. He had spent enough years living under the control of the Estet Magi; it was time he did something for himself. _

_With all his strength, he broke away from the hold and ran towards the road where Chris was. _

_"I love you," he whispered, and then pushed the younger boy away to safety. Or at least, safe from death. Hope might be gone, but love would live on. _

_The truck came._

 "Brad, wake up." He felt a light slap on his face and a gentle voice speaking against his ear, trying to calm him down while he shook off the remnants of his nightmare. It was not a nightmare, his mind happily pointed out. It was a flashback. 

Long arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Warmth spread itself around him, enveloping him in its security blanket. 

Brad Crawford opened his eyes in puzzlement, finding a certain orange-haired German in his arms. Schuldich smiled and pressed his lips softly against the bridge of Crawford's nose. 

"Good morning."

The rest of the world was in a blur, thanks to his myopia. But for the first time, he did not feel the impulse to reach for his glasses immediately. As a matter of fact, he was enjoying the clear close distance view of his newfound lover. 

Or was it 'long lost'?

"What time is it now?" The German looked up at the alarm clock placed on the bedside table and frowned. "Nine in the morning."

The American nodded slightly and circled his arm around Schuldich's waist, pulling the telepath closer to him. There was still a tingling of fear within him. What exactly had happened in that dream? It was he yet it was not. What was going on?

Finally deciding to leave such deep thinking processes to the later part of the day, Crawford buried his nose into Schuldich's sweet smelling hair and sighed. 

"Go back to sleep. We don't have to wake until later."

***

The Night Before 

Nagi just called and said he would not be home that night. None of them asked why. They were teammates, but that did not automatically make Crawford his keeper. If Prodigy wanted to stay out for the night, who were they to question his actions? Besides, the American had other things on his mind that night. 

Crawford glanced over to the young man sitting on the couch, surfing channels restlessly with enough impatience to rival any child's. Not that he could be blamed. Much had happened that afternoon, beginning with his sudden breakdown in Schuldich's arms. But what had changed between them?

Chris was confused. He could no longer tell how much of the boy he knew had remained in the ruthless leader of Schwarz. But he had the inkling that something was going to change between them. He was just not sure how ready he was to let that happen. He did not want anything to change between them, but on the other hand, he did not want things to remain the same either. 

"Argh, I'm so confused…" Chris mumbled to himself. 

"Schuldich," Crawford started, ignoring the German's obvious flinch at the use of his alias. "Come into my room, we need to talk."

Chris snapped around, staring at he American with bewildered eyes. Talk? He chokingly nodded and turned the television off. Tossing the remote back onto the leather couch, he followed Crawford into his room.

"What do you want to talk about?" Chris looked around the room, searching out for somewhere that he could sit on. Given that a certain American already occupied the only chair in the room, he had no choice but to happily drop him on the bed. 

Ouch, how could Brad even manage to sleep on a mattress as tough as that?

Crawford studied the German telepath carefully. He was sure long ago he knew this man, loved him even. But the memories and emotions were so vague that it seemed more like it had happened in another lifetime. 

Perhaps he had. A life that he had before he sold his soul to Estet. 

"Us, to begin with."

Chris blinked, his hands unconsciously tightened around the sheets in anger and hurt. 

"Was there even an 'us' in the first place? Last I checked with you, there wasn't."

Brad Crawford flinched. Bitter tears gathered at the edge of Chris' beautiful sapphire eyes. He had hurt him again. While the Schwarz leader had never cared much about the emotional welfare of his teammates before, Crawford suddenly realized that he could no longer look at Schuldich the same way again. 

He was starting to remember. Even if his mind was not, his heart was beginning to recall the fond bittersweet memories of stolen moments with a flame haired child. 

"I don't know. As far as I could remember, I first knew you when the Magi sent you into Schwarz. Or at least, that was my first memory of Mastermind."

"But I'm not Schuldich!" Chris protested. 

"No, you are not. Schuldich is a cold-hearted killer who plays with his victims before ending their life with that smirk of his. Chris Heinrich is not. But still, you have recollections of Schuldich, don't you?"

"The Brad Crawford you know…I don't know if he exist anymore. But part of him is still in here." Crawford smiled sardonically, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart was supposed to be. Did he even have a heart in the first place? 

He had mixed feelings towards what he was experiencing. Towards what he could remember and what he could not. Towards the fact that he was dealing with the past, not the future that he was familiar with. 

Chris did not understand what the American was ranting about. He had no idea who Schuldich was or who he was supposed to be. Nothing except for the fact that everybody expected him to be the Mastermind of Schwarz. But Brad…

At least he remembered bits and pieces of their past. Hope flared in his heart. Hope that should have died long ago resurfaced once more in his thoughts. No, hope had never survived. Love did. 

The younger man pushed himself off the bed and walked towards Crawford. Could he help him find the boy that he loved? The boy who had saved him from the cold of the hills and from the harsh words of his own mother? 

He had to give it another try. 

Chris placed a gentle hand on Crawford's cheek, meeting coffee-tinted eyes with his blue ones. 

"Can I stay here tonight?" He asked softly, almost afraid that Crawford would say 'no' and pushed him out of the room, away from him. Everything had seemed so surreal that night. Chris only wished for it to be real. He needed to wake up knowing that it had not all been a crazy dream of his. 

The American agreed. 

***

+End of Chapter 6+

+Continue to Chapter 7+


	9. Chapter 7

**Rain and Music Boxes | Chapter 7**

**A Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko**

**Pairing: Crawford + Schuldich**

**Warnings: Sex, drugs, mind control and violence**

**This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiß and their associates.**

A/N: Oh great, now I've lost whatever plot bunnies I had for this story. Why the hell do I need Ken and Nagi for again?

---

**Berlin, Germany**

**Two Years Ago **

The German did almost everything that he could. He danced, he smoked, and he had sex, painful sex. The only vice that he still refused to touch was drugs. Stupid, he knew. After all that he had gone through, drugs would only be another desperate measure to silence the voices in his head. But he had pride. He remembered making a promise to someone about not resorting to drugs to block out the noises. He could only do that much as to honor that promise. 

The whip cracked painfully down on his bare back. But the young man only welcomed it with tears of joy in his eyes. Damn, I'm turning into a masochist. He chided himself. But had he any other choice? Only the pain, his dreadful concentration on the pain could bring him away from the heavy pounding in his head. 

Another night of mindless sex. But he had no complains about it. He had no past, no memories, no name and no money. All he had was the clothes he had on, his body and the insanity in his head. 

Some part of him told him that it was a test. Somebody had left him on the streets to break him. It was this endless routine of sex, dance and alcohol that had cost him his memories. But that would mean that one day, some one would come by, collect the pieces and put him back together the way they want it to. 

Come and take me now, he pleaded mentally. I will gratefully sell my soul to you. Who cares if you are the devil or not?

The next morning, the flame haired man picked up his clothes from the floor of the cheap moth infested motel room and began roaming the streets of Berlin again, hunting for more cigarettes with the money in his pocket. If he were lucky, he could find another john to spend the night with. 

He stopped outside a shop window. It was a gift shop, one of those things that were doomed for closing down during times like these. Who on Earth in East Berlin would bother to enter a gift shop when they even had problems feeding themselves? 

But something at the show window had attracted his attention. It was a music box. Cheap, and badly made. The wood was rough and casually painted over. But to him, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

He looked at the price that went with it, and dug into his pockets to make a quick count of the money he had. Not enough. 

***

**Schwarz Apartment**

**Present**

The Schwarz morning started off with a very loud scream of "WHAT THE FUCK?!" followed by a string of German curses that were too fast for anyone other than the speaker to catch. There was a lot of noise inside Crawford's usually silent room. The sound of things breaking, of knuckles against bone, and finally an angered growl that could only come from the leader of Schwarz. 

Worried, Nagi leapt out of bed and quickly made his way down the hallway to the locked room, using his telekinesis to break the lock. Crawford could scold him about respecting his privacy for all he cared later. 

The room was a nightmare. The floor was a mess, filled with old things, useless things, broken things that a certain German telepath had trashed in his tirade. Nagi looked around, realizing that said telepath was standing with his back to the window, completely naked with a wild look of hatred and confusion on his face. 

Crawford was sitting on the bed, also naked, and looking just as confused as the two other men in his room. An ugly purple bruise was already darkening on his jaw, no doubt gifted by the redhead. 

"No shit, chibi, get out," Schuldich ordered shakily. Crawford shook his head, swinging his legs off the bed and walked towards the German with a hand reached out. 

"No, Nagi, stay." Crawford studied every change on Schuldich's face carefully, a worried frown creasing his handsome face. "What's wrong with you, Chris?"

"Who the fuck is Chris?" Schuldich yelled, glaring from the American to the teenager in the room. "And what sort of sick game are you playing this time, Crawford?"

The American winced. Even during Schuldich's worst tantrums he had refused to call him by his last name. Crawford never thought it would hurt that much when he finally did. He placed his hand over his eyes, predicting the upcoming arrival of a full-blown migraine. 

//Look into my mind, Schuldich//

The German did not need a second invitation. 

Memories; memories of Schuldich fainting in Crawford's office in the Diet Building, memories of Schuldich waking up as Chris Heinrich (Who the fuck is he anyway?), of the hurt expression on his face every time Crawford called him anything other than 'Chris', bittersweet memories of them sleeping in each other's arms just last night…

Schuldich bit his lip and wrenched himself out of Crawford's head. 

"Damn, you are sicker than I thought you are." Either that, or I'm really going crazy. Schuldich thought warily. But it was more than that that had frightened him. It was the feelings Crawford evoked when he called him Chris, the impulse to throw himself into Crawford's arms and sob like a baby, or a lover, when the American was looking at him with that concerned frown on his face. That was what that had scared him witless. 

The name 'Chris' sounded like a whisper from long ago. And it frustrated Schuldich to no end, the same way one would feel when a line of a song kept repeating itself in your head but you simply could not remember how the rest of it sounded like. 

He reached out his mental feelers to the Japanese boy in the room. //Nagi, please, may I? // He asked. The boy stared at him with a look of puzzlement on his face, but nodded all the same. 

Such trust, Schuldich thought. What had I done to deserve that? 

Nagi's mind was, to his surprise, clearer than what Crawford's were like. The boy slowly revealed to him, day by day, how the German woke up looking different, thinking differently, insisting that his name was Chris Heinrich and was a childhood friend of Brad Crawford's.

The room was silent, as silent as the grave, while Schuldich slowly digested this information. 

"This 'Chris'," he finally started, trying hard to find the correct words to say. "He a friend of yours?"

Crawford hesitated for a moment, and then gave a nod. //Perhaps more, I'm not sure//

"Oh God," the redhead slumped back onto the floor with a sigh. "Do you believe in ghosts, peeps?"

***

It was a ghost. It had to be! There was no way in Hell Schuldich could connect himself with that frightened young man from his teammates' minds. The German knew nothing of fear. Strange it was, but perhaps he had been born like that. His earliest memories were of himself roaming the streets of Berlin during the Soviet occupation, selling his body for any distraction he could to dull the voices in his head: sex, alcohol, pain…just about anything except for drugs.

_A strong hand encircled itself around his wrist and squeezed down hard, Chris dropped the syringe in his hand out of pain. _

_"What do you think you are doing?" Brad shouted. _

_"Leave me alone!" Chris pushed Brad away desperately, reaching desperately for his rush again. "I want to be deaf! I want the silence!"_

_"Is it worth it? Is it worth getting addicted on this trash just to make those voices shut up?" Brad picked up the plastic syringe and rolled up his sleeves, all the while keeping his eyes on his friend. "If you think it is, I'll join you on your way to hell." _

_Dark green eyes widened with fear as he grabbed for the drug, only ending up in falling head on into Brad's arms. _

_"Don't…" Chris sobbed, grabbing on to Brad like a drowning man to a plank. "I don't want you to be like me…"_

_"Then promise me," the black haired boy let the syringe drop from his hand and he tightened his hug around the smaller boy. "Promise me that you won't even think about doing drugs again." He whispered, pressing his lips onto Chris' cold sweaty forehead. _

Schuldich grabbed his head painfully, fingers winding around his long orange locks and pulling at them, wanting the sting in his scalp to distract him from the visions his mind was giving him. 

Was that remnants of a ghost, or remnants of the ghost of a memory?

 "Get out…get the hell out of my head…please, save me…Mutti…Brad…"

+++

End of Chapter 7

Continue to Chapter 8

Note: 'Mutti' means 'mother' in German, I think.


End file.
